Thalassa
by A Beautiful Nightmare
Summary: Retelling the Greek myth of Poseidon's rape on Medusa.
1. I

**Author's Note: **I always imagined Poseidon as a more sinister character in the myths. In my opinion, Hades seems to be a gentleman compared to him! Therefore, I decided to rewrite the myth of Poseidon's rape on Medusa to portray how malevolent I think he is. Also, _Thalassa_ is intended to be a one-shot. However as of the moment, the story is uploaded in chapters since it is still incomplete. I post a new chapter each time I finish a section of the story. In the end, I'll combine all the chapters into one. Oh, and if you have any comments or constructive criticisms, please do not hesitate to review. It really makes my day. Thanks for reading!

P.S. My horizontal ruler doesn't work. Anyone else having that problem?

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- **I -**

Medusa awoke to the cold of the oncoming night. The sky was a swirling shade of indigo and the horizon of the sea an iridescent color of fading red, orange, and yellow. She continued to lie on the beach, listening to the music of the ocean and the retreating birds. Her body relished the sensation of how the sand molded beneath its form. The breeze caressed her skin and slipped through her fine tunic sending the chiffon-like fabric in a rising and rolling frenzy.

The waves started to wash further up shore and were now tickling the soles of her feet. Medusa rotated to her side, sliding an arm beneath the chestnut curls of her head, and brought her knees forward. With her free hand, she lightly dipped an index finger into the sand and diagonally traced a line that followed the gaze of her eyes to a building of ivory columns. The flame in the vestibule still burned brightly and cast a magnificent glow on the steps, warmly welcoming anyone who wished to worship Athena. Among the three Gorgon sisters, it was Medusa's turn to guard the temple tonight.

Something flickered in the distance. Medusa squinted her still-groggy eyes and tilted her head up in curiosity. As the moving object drew closer, she sat up with the support of her arms, the drapes on them falling loosely to the sides. Disheveled from the movements of her earlier sleep, her flimsy gown hung around the curves of her body carelessly, exposing her chest and shoulders more than modesty called for. Noticing this, the girl concealed herself with an arm, obviously still in a dreamy state to think that this was enough coverage, and pulled back several locks of hair from her eyes for a better view of the mysterious being.

The creature finally came into view, and Medusa saw that it was a horse –a majestic, white horse. Shining brilliantly beneath the moonlight, its platinum-blond mane and tail tossed up and down as it galloped. A storm of sand trailed behind its wake.

Medusa gradually rose and approached the powerful beast. She hugged her herself against the chill for the wind was stronger now. The tail of her white dress billowed in a furious manner behind her, twisting this way and that, and a wisp of hair glided past her cherry lips as the rest whirled around her neck. Her ethereal figure was as if a personification of the wind itself.

The horse trotted to a stop and flipped its head back in a cry of excitement when the girl outstretched her hand to it.

"Shh," Medusa eased, hand in mid-air, "I won't hurt you." Slowly, the back of her fingers touched the horse's cheek and proceeded to brush upwards when the horse made no sign of displeasure. Her lips parted in awe as her hand moved to the mane, her fingers combing through the silky strands. Was this creature wild? It looked the part; however, it was too tame to play one. "Where did you come from?" Medusa asked, as if the animal understood her.

The horse nuzzled her face in response.

The girl giggled at the gesture and pulled herself away. "Come," she whispered, "I have something for you." With those words, she led the horse towards the temple.


	2. II

- **II -**

In the house of Athena, Medusa deliberated as she raided the kitchenette for food suitable for a horse. What would be the fate of the animal? Should she have it for herself? It seemed like such a tempting proposal. Her lips tightened but failed to suppress a smile when her mind impetuously painted a melodramatic scene of her and the horse frolicking on the beach –a silly notion for a girl her age. Then again, what if it actually did belong to someone? The girl sighed, knowing it was too good to be true. Maybe it was better if she brought it into town and allowed the officials to deal with it.

An apple hidden beneath a pile of bananas caught her eyes. It was already starting to spoil on one side, the area dark and sunken. Like an expert, she cleaved that part gone, sliced the rest into wedges, and slid them into a small wooden bowl. With it in hand, she hastened outside into the night, like a little girl rushing to find her playmates at the game hide-and-seek.

"Darling," she called in a sing-song voice as she reached the steps, "I have apples for you." However, the horse was nowhere in sight. Her brows furrowed, accentuating the perplexity in her dark eyes, as she treaded into the sand, wholeheartedly looking left and right down the beach. The only visible hoofprints were those that ended at the steps. Could it have entered the temple?

The girl shuffled back inside yet strongly doubted that a horse could fit through the narrow corridors. More baffled than dismayed, she returned to the kitchenette to make herself a simple dinner and decided to do some cleaning afterwards, much too awake now to prepare for sleep. While passing the sanctum, a shadow of a person wavering along the wall caused her to double back. Had someone unbeknown come to worship Athena?

"Hello?" Medusa called out, hesitating at the threshold. Her left hand tentatively touched the side of the entrance, the bowl of apples still in her other hand. "Is someone there?" An impressive statue of the Goddess of Wisdom was indented into the west wall while myriads of writhing shadows caused by surrounding candelabras crawled along the lengths of the dim room. Her eyes could have easily played a trick on her.

The girl frowned, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Moreover, her spirit remained undisturbed, either much too innocent due to being brought up in a sheltered lifestyle or trusting too much in her sacred mistress to protect her at all times. However, when she felt the curls on the back of her shoulder began to rise on its own, her doll-like eyes widened as her pupils shrunk, and she spun around -the layers of her dress following her motion in a flurry- to find herself looking up at a man half-hidden in the shadows with very familiar platinum-blond hair.


	3. III

- **III -**

Medusa took several clumsy steps backwards into the room with her head lowered. "I –I'm sorry. You startled me," she said with a faltering voice, a hand clutching her chest at an attempt to calm herself. When her eyes lifted off the floor to the person at the doorway, she could not help but cover her mouth to muffle a cry and quickly turn around. Her heart began racing again, but this time for an entirely different reason.

Poseidon smirked with fingers coiled in the air from playing with the child's hair. He had been standing behind her, only mere centimeters away from her body. Oh, how he wanted then to just grab her, rip apart that pathetic excuse for a garment, and make love to her right there from behind. Yet he restrained himself, for he wanted to spill her virgin blood beneath the statue of his rival Athena and not some random wall of the temple. His lust-filled eyes now lined the form of the girl's slender body as he entered the room.

The silence in the air was disconcerting, but Medusa was speechless. How was she to confront a naked man? The hand previously on her mouth glided to her cheek to feel the burning sensation there. Why was he even naked? Then her eyes sparked as she realized the truth, but before she could fully analyze the situation, a strong arm circled her waist and gently pulled her into an embrace.

With the other hand on her shoulder, Poseidon burrowed his nose in the curls of the maiden's hair, thoroughly enjoying the scent and sensation. He closed his eyes and found his way to her ear, "Do you know who I am, young one?"

Medusa's voice was frozen, and so was her body. In all her life of training to be a priestess and practicing celibacy, she was forbidden to engage in any sort of intimate contact with the opposite sex. Therefore, for a moment her body gave in to this new pleasure, enjoying how her flesh tingled whenever his breath coursed over her neck or whenever their skins touched; though, when he spoke again, she snapped back into reality, and the ambitions of her mind overpowered the ambitions of her body.

Poseidon, receiving no answer to his question, chuckled, "It is good you do not know. Let us keep it that way," and the hand on her waist began its slow descent along her thigh to lift her skirt as his other hand moved across her collarbone to pull her face to him so that he may kiss her. Before he could accomplish anything however, the maiden sprang from his grasps and sprinted past him out of the room. At first, Poseidon was dumbfounded, maybe even a little vexed. Never had a mortal rejected his advances. Then, the corners of his lips twitched and tugged itself into a maniacal grin. Oh, this was going to be fun. At that thought, he swung around, dashed out the door, and tore through the hallway like a voracious beast.


	4. IV

**- IV -**

In her state of panic, Medusa had taken the wrong turn out of that abominable place, the exit to the beach now behind her. She ran aimlessly through the corridors as her eyes darted left and right for a room with a door. A god. That man was a god! He had to be. No other being in the world possessed the power to shapeshift at will. She knew this from the stories her mother used to tell when she was little. A feeling of dread passed through her, elevating her adrenaline. This was bad. Most human encounters with gods ended in tragedy. At all cost, she must escape from whoever this god was. But why was he here? What interest did he have in her?

Athena. Athena. Athena. Originally, Poseidon had wanted to raise the tide on the beach so high as to flood her temple. However, after seeing from the reefs her lovely priestess resting along the shore, a more exciting idea appealed to him. Rage blended with concupiscence as he remembered the time when the earth was being divided among the Olympians. He and Athena had vied over the patronage of Athens. The king of the city had announced that the title would be bestowed to whoever presented the most precious gift. Apparently, a simple olive tree was more impressive than a magnificent spring, and Athena won. Furious, Poseidon had cursed Athens and declared that the city should never have enough water. That should serve as a lesson to other mortals to think twice before opposing the God of the Sea.

Poseidon pursued the girl at his own leisure pace, following the tail of her dress as it stole around the corners of the hallway. It was easy to catch her, but he would just rather bask in her fear at the moment. The sound of her frantic panting echoed through the corridors as her feet pitter-pattered on the floor. He loved it when they ran from him. It made the experience all the more worthwhile. His mind conjured all the awful things he would do to her, and his body ached to feel her skin tremble beneath his while he ravished her senseless. Of all the gods, he had the most lovers -surprisingly, even more than his brother Zeus who held the reputation of always sleeping around. Poseidon loved mortals the most though. He enjoyed how their bodies were more fragile, readily wounded, and his loins throbbed as he imagined the girl screaming and writhing in pain at his reckless abandon. Unable to control himself any longer, he quickened his pace and caught up to the girl just as she was about to barricade him out of a room.

The ground thudded behind Medusa, growing louder and louder. "Athena," the word slipped from her lips desperately. Her eyes watered as she realized her chances of evasion waxing slim. Surely she would be turned into some sort of plant or animal –or worse dead – by daybreak. A god at the heels usually yielded fatal outcomes. The door to her quarters caught her eyes, and she stumbled toward it as shaking hands groped for the swinging wooden panel. "Please," she begged, "Athena --."

In one swift move, the god grabbed the girl, flung her into a wall of the bedchamber, and pinned her there, a hand on her left wrist and another on the right of her shoulder. She gave a slight cry as pain shot up her spine, her delicate back arching from the concrete. Droplets of tears speckled her lashes.

For the first time, Medusa saw her assailant distinctly. He was young and fair with sharp features resembling that of a statue, but his face held the look of a madman. While his hands violated every inch of her body, he leaned into her until they were cheek and cheek, "Oh, little one, your dear goddess it far too busy aiding Perseus on a quest to hear your plea." The girl felt the side of his face shape itself into smile before fingers curled into the chiffon-like layers at her bosom, shredding them.


	5. V

**- V -**

Medusa moaned, aroused from unconsciousness by the sensation of movement. There was pressure all over her body, outer and inner, enabling her to only roll her head from side to side. It felt like she was on a boat, rocking back and forth but going nowhere. A mixture of sounds filled her ears: water slapping against the side of the vessel and some animal grunting faraway on an island perhaps. When she finally managed to pry open her heavy eyelids, she saw that it was pure darkness. Where were the moon and the stars? Then, just as soon as her eyes opened, they threatened to close again, but not before she glimpsed a silhouette of an owl, radiating in a soft glow of light against the gloom.

-:-

It was cold –oh, so cold. Medusa awoke in a fetal position, naked and shivering. The chill in the air seeped into the marrows of her bones, piercing her nerves like shards of glass embedded throughout her body. Her limbs refused to move as if they no longer exist, and dried tears from the night before glued shut her eyes, enshrouding her in nothingness. She wanted to scream from this nightmare, but only the sound of air came from her throat. All was dark and silent around her. Was this death?

-:-

Ethereal voices with inaudible words permeated the air. It came from all directions, echoing sometimes in a hush tone and at other times a sweeping cadence. Perceiving her name in the midst of the noise, Medusa followed it and arrived at the source where it could not be any more louder and clearer. The place was empty, looking exactly like its origin. It was as if she never moved. However, when she looked up, the sky rushed at her and swallowed her into a world of white.

"Medusa!"

The priestess fluttered her lashes and winced from the sudden intensity of brightness. As her vision adjusted, she saw that she was in her quarters and her older sister sat by her on the bed, cleaning the remaining crusts of tears from her eyes with a cool cloth. "Stheno," Medusa called out weakly.

"Oh, Medusa!" the sister cried. Turning quickly to the doorway, Stheno beckoned to another girl, "Euryale, our sister has awakened!"

In an instant, the youngest sister scurried in, carrying a large bowl of water, which she laid next to Stheno. Kneeling at the floor before Medusa, a wave of questions spilled forth from her. "What happened, dear sister? Are you all right? Who has done this to you? When did this happen? Did you --?"

A gentle hand descended upon Euryale's shoulder, gesturing her to still her lips. "Let us allow Medusa to speak only if she wishes," Stheno whispered.

There was a moment of quiet. Stheno and Euryale had found Medusa at the pedestal of Athena this morning. The sanctum, usually lit by multiple candelabras, was uncanningly dark, and an ominous aura embodied the air. The bare girl was a horrid site: dried blood coated her inner thighs as bruises and gashes embellished her body. It was obvious what happened to her.

"He- he was a god," Medusa uttered, her eyes narrowing briefly as if tears would flow but none coming, "and he raped me." Unable to say anymore, her face contorted at the onerous memories and hid itself in the sleeve of Stheno, who gently stroked the poor girl's head.

"Euryale," whispered the oldest sister, "have you finished cleaning the chamber of Athena?"

"Yes, sister."

Stheno paused as if unsure about something then fluidly replied, "All should be well then. The goddess must never know of this."


End file.
